Ralph's Confessions
by Paradox42
Summary: ONESHOT. How Ralph's life might have turned out after the island. Rated T for themes, and I'm kind of paranoid.


**A/N: This is just a short story that I had to write as an English assignment. I edited it a little to suit fanfiction. Anyway, it's basically a short, depressing One-shot about how Ralph's life might have turned out after the island incident. The entire story his from his point of view.  
**

* * *

I enter my psychologist's office. She just sits there, watching me as though it has been only days since our last meeting, instead of months, almost a year. I sit down.

"All right, I'm here again."

Still, that silence.

"Okay, okay, I'm here because of the dreams. Dreams that I haven't had for a while, not since…well, not for a while."

Silence. That is all she gives me. I can't deny that it works.

"Oh, alright! Not since after the island. Look, I've already told you, and countless other shrinks, all about my time there and what happened and so on, but I'm fine. Really."

I look down, shuffle my feet and probably look extremely uncomfortable. I am on the verge of saying something, but can't quite get it out. Finally I look up, sigh, and start talking.

"Alright, I'm not fine. Truth is…I don't think I've ever really been fine since the island. I'd thought, and hoped, that once we got back to civilization, back home, that everything would be good." I stare off into the distance, out the window. There's trees and blue sky's outside. "I thought that once I was home my dad and I could resume life from where we left off. What I wasn't prepared for was…well, everything. School and work and machines and _people_. It was the people that _really_ got to me. None of the other children at school could possibly understand what I'd been through, and I could barely stand talking to them. I…hated them, I suppose, but I also envied them. I hated that they didn't understand, that they were so oblivious to the truth about what they were really like, really capable of, and yet at the same time I envied that ignorance. I was resentful that I was no longer like them. What happened on the island had affected me, and they didn't…couldn't understand."

I paused for a moment, reminiscing, and then continued, because I guess I needed to get it out.

"So I survived adolescence as best I could, and as soon as I was able, I joined the army. My father was proud of me, naturally, as he was in the army himself, but we had grown apart in recent years, because while he was a soldier, and so more likely to understand what had happened to me, he didn't. His explanation for the island was that we had all just gone a little stir crazy, and he refused to believe anything else. But I knew this wasn't the case, least of all for me. After all, I voluntarily participated in that dance…that murder. I was just as savage as any of the other boys on that island."

"So I joined the army. I trained hard… in fact, being a soldier practically became my life. At first it was just a way to forget. When I was training, on a mission, or anything physically exhausting, really, those were the times when I could just forget my past and live in the moment. Those were the times when I could almost be normal. So for almost a decade, training and missions became my whole life. I can honestly say that I had no friends during that time. After all, who could I talk to, really? My mother was gone, and my father? He didn't want to understand. My fellow soldiers? They were still young, like me, but unlike me, they hadn't been terrorised on an island for several months. Unlike me, they hadn't witnessed what all human beings are really like when they're not trapped by society's rules. Unlike me, they hadn't seen two people, just _boys, _murdered for no reason other than that's what humans do to each other. I couldn't talk to them. I couldn't talk to anyone."

I stopped. God, how I had hated people. How I now hated myself.

"So while my social life became non-existent, my career flourished. I was promoted often, and soon _I_ was the one leading the missions. It was around this time that I realized the real reason that I had trained so hard. The _real_ reason that I'd become such a perfect soldier. I was seeking redemption. Redemption for what I and the others had done. I thought that if I helped enough people, saved enough lives, then maybe, _maybe_, it would make up for the two that we'd taken…for the _children _that we'd murdered. As I started to come to this realization, I decided that it was time to stop being such a recluse. After all, how could I save people if I didn't _know_ people? So I finally started to talk to my colleagues, and eventually I found that I had friends."

Yes, friends. That had been nice, while it lasted. Now, though? I could barely look at them without being disgusted by myself for thinking that I deserved them.

"For the first time since the island, my life was finally looking positive. I found that I was actually able to forget, not completely, but even that was an improvement. Every time we saved a life, I found myself smiling. Smiling at the fact that _I _had done this. That I'd given someone back the rest of their life. But after each life was saved, I found that smile fading more and more, and eventually it was gone, because I'd finally realised that it would never be enough. I realised that no matter how many people I saved, it would never make up for the fact that I'd _taken_ lives. Children's lives. Nothing could ever make up for that. And so the dreams started again. The dreams of blood and beasts, dancing and murder."

Murder. I was a murderer, the worst kind, and I always would be. I would never deserve the friendship I had gained. I barely deserved to live.

"And now I find myself here, I guess. I suppose…I just wanted to get it out. Put that on my file, if you want. But I'm out of here."

I cut off abruptly, and stand up. She still just stares at me, having taken no notes during the entire time. Just watching, just listening. I walk out of the office.

I guess I feel kind of better.

* * *

**R&R? What did you think?  
**


End file.
